Folie à deux
by Liliththestormgoddess
Summary: The five times the team didn't understand Natasha and Clint's relationship…and the one time they didn't have to.


Folie à deux

By Liliththestormgoddess

**Summary**: The five times the team didn't understand Natasha and Clint's relationship…and the one time they didn't have to.

**Warnings:** Some heavy swearing, especially in scene 2.

**A/N:** This little monster took much too long, but there was RL and writer's block. Originally, it was meant to be a companion to Thursday's Child, but with an exploration of Natasha's past. However, I didn't feel that I could do it justice, and I did not have enough ideas for it either. So rather, it turned into a piece on both Natasha and Clint - their relationship and their past.

Thursday's Child does not need to be read in order to understand this, but I do reference it in scenes 2, 5 and +1. Some things from TC needed some closure.

While Captain America: The Winter Soldier did get my muse running and inspired a few of these scenes, there are no spoilers for that movie. Marvel's Agents of SHIELD is also referenced (vaguely) but no spoilers there either.

* * *

_Folie a deux:__ noun_ \fȯ-lē-ä-ˈdœ, ˌfä-lē-ˌä-ˈdə(r)\

-From the French; "a madness shared by two". The presence of the same or similar delusional ideas in two persons closely associated with one another

**1.**

_She could pick out his gait in a crowded marketplace so she wondered how on earth he thought he could get past her. She stepped out from the doorway and fixed him with her Black Widow stare. Either she was out of practice or her partner was simply immune to it now (she firmly believed it was the latter, though she hated either option). However, it simply could have been that for the past several weeks Clint had seemed to be living in a haze and was hardly cognizant of his surroundings. _

"_You're leaving," she accused._

"_Yes," he simply said, depositing the duffel bag that he carried at his feet and turning to face her. "I have my orders. Deep cover op." _

_Natasha studied her partner's form; coiled and tensed and avoiding her eyes. She could read him like a book, and she knew this was no ordinary goodbye. A knot coiled in her chest and she wondered if this was what normal people felt when they watched someone they loved walk away. Only, she didn't love him – at least, she didn't think so, not in the way that people thought she did._

_Her hand shot out and latched onto his arm. She wondered if this was how he had felt when she'd left him all those years ago when she'd just started at SHIELD – wondering if this was it, if she was ever going to come back. She kept her voice steady as she said, "Promise me, Clint. Promise me that you'll come back." She didn't want to think about one of the first constants in her life walking away and never coming back._

_He raised his head then and met her eyes. His eyes were grey and not blue; Loki was gone but he still lingered in the lines around Clint's eyes and mouth, and in the darkness of his eyes where there once was a bit of light. Natasha knew that Clint needed this mission, but she also feared that her partner was nearing his end. _

_Suddenly Clint's lips twitched and he smiled; it was only about an eighth of his usual grin, but Natasha would take it. She hadn't let go of his arm and so he reached out with his other hand and pulled her to stand closer to him. "I'm coming back," he said, "I promise." _

_They eyed each other for several long minutes and Natasha felt her muscles relax little by little. He wasn't lying to her. Whatever he had to do, he would, and then he would be back. "I'll hold you to that," she said sternly. _

"_You can't get rid of me that easily," he replied. With that, he pulled away and stooped to pick up his duffle bag. As he turned around to leave, he grabbed her hand and pressed something into her palm. "A promise," he repeated, and with that he turned and disappeared down the corridor. _

_Only when she could no longer hear his footfalls did Natasha dare to open up her hand and see the delicate gold necklace with the arrow on it. _

Watching Natasha dry her hair, trying to discern if she was alright or not, Steve found his eyes drawn to the piece of jewellery around her neck. It was so distinctive, such a statement, and he did not realize that she had caught him staring. He blushed and quickly looked away. He could only imagine what she thought he was looking at – and she would definitely kick his ass for it.

"I – uh – I wasn't looking at your – uhh," he coughed and felt his face heat up. She laughed and he risked a glance back up.

She smiled and touched the arrow around her neck. Just then Sam came in and announced that breakfast was ready, and Steve figured maybe he got off easy.

**2.**

"We got a tip," Fury began, addressing the three Avengers in the room, "from an unknown source about a possible terrorist strike against the U.S. Navy, about three months back. We took this seriously, and our agents were able to prevent the disaster and apprehend the men involved."

Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Clint Barton all listened intently as Fury continued with his story. "Since then, we have received several more tips about possible attacks, drug, and weapons exchanges. We believe they have been made by the same man. Just this morning, we received word from an unknown source that they would like to make direct contact with us, in order to discuss a major security issue. We believe that this is the same man, and I want the three of you, along with a team of agents, to bring him in."

"Is a complete team necessary, sir?" Natasha asked with a frown.

Fury nodded. "If this is trap, then I don't want to be caught with our pants down. We aren't taking this source lightly. But if he's legit, I want him and his information on our side. Clear?" The three nodded and were dismissed.

The agents suited up and headed out to the rendezvous point, a silent and dark troop in the shadows of the night.

As they neared the empty garage where the source had said they would be, the three Avengers left the backup behind. Clint headed in first to scope out the place, the other two merely a few steps behind him.

However, a few steps into the darkened garage, and Clint froze, an arrow poised for release. He aimed it at the approaching shadow, but held back on releasing it. When the man's face came out of shadow, Clint thought that the world had suddenly slipped out from under him. He lowered his bow; an action that he knew caused Natasha and Steve great anxiety behind him.

The man grinned as he stepped closer. "Hiya Clint," he said, in a voice that Clint had long forgotten. His teammates froze behind him as the man continued speaking. "So, I was hoping – " but he was cut off as Clint suddenly growled and threw himself forwards, tackling the larger man to the ground.

Natasha immediately had her gun trained on the wrestling pair, ready to defend her partner. She was just lining up her shot when Steve put a hand on her arm. She turned to shoot him a furious look, but he was still watching the pair.

"Wait," Rogers said. He'd seen Clint fight before. The man was graceful and efficient and deadly. This…wasn't. This was clumsy and juvenile and different. Neither man was going for the kill. Steve had seen plenty of opportunities to do so. This reminded Steve of when he used to wrestle with Bucky. "Just…don't," he said to Natasha, finding himself unable to offer up any other reasoning. Owing to the trust of their partnership, Natasha did in fact lower her gun, but she did not put it away.

They didn't have to wait long for the fight to end.

"Clint! Mother –" the larger man cried, as Clint pulled him into a headlock.

"What the actual fuck, Barney?" Clint cried, flexing his arms as the man scrambled to get free. "Thirteen years without a word and you decide the best way to talk to me is to ambush me? Fuck!"

The man snarled underneath him, still trying to wiggle free. "Get the fuck off me, Clint." With a mighty heave, the larger man disentangled himself from the SHIELD agent and scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily, only to be thrown back a few steps as Clint came at him again, fuming, and shoving him roughly in the chest.

"What the fuck?" Clint cried again, lashing out once more at his estranged brother. "Fuck!" he cried, this time more to himself as he grabbed frustratingly at his hair.

"Are you fucking finished?" Barney growled, shoving his younger brother a few steps back to maintain his space, and causing Clint to let out a snarl of fury.

"No!" Clint cried. "No, I am not finished!" He let out a deranged bark of laughter. "I ought to shoot you in the head and be rid of you! Thirteen fucking years…come to try and kill me off again?"

Barney through his arms out to the sides. "Do it! Shoot me! Will it make you feel better? It will make _me_ feel better!"

Clint seethed, his hand fluttering around the gun on his hip, but he did not pull it.

Barney pulled in a few deep breaths, and some of the anger drained from his face. "Look, Clint, we ain't gotta talk about it – I know I did a lot of shit –" he was cut off as Clint barked out a sarcastic laugh. Barney's eyes flared again and his voice ratcheted up a few notches. "I did a lot of shit, but I didn't have the luxury of working for a legit organization like you! I had to get by – and I spent most of those years in prison!"

Clint threw his head back in a laugh. "Where do you think they found me?" He asked self-depreciatingly. "What else did I have after you left me for dead? Huh? Was it worth it? Was Jacques worth it?"

Barney's face scrunched together and he spit at his feet. "That fucker ran off with all of my money."

Natasha, with her hand still clenched tight around her gun, took the moment to call out to Clint, "Do you want me to shoot him?"

Barney, as if just noticing he had an audience, swung to face the two people watching the reunion play out; one with a murderous look on her face, and the other with a puzzled expression. Barney grinned, tossing a wave to the pair before turning back to his brother, the same smile on his face. "Heard you were with the Avengers. Didn't think it was true." His smile softened a bit as he looked his brother up and down, taking him in fully for the first time. "I was going to take you with me," he said. "After we grabbed the money. I was going to find us a better life. Believe me when I say that."

Clint clenched his fists and ground his teeth together.

Barney nodded once more at him. "Glad to see you're still in one piece."

It sounded so damn sincere to Clint that it only pissed him off further. Without another word, Clint spun on his heel and stomped off into the night.

"Uh," Captain America muttered aloud, clearing trying to regain control of the situation. He stepped toward Barney, who had his eyes fixed on the spot where Clint had vanished. "Would you come with us, sir?"

The Director met them in front of one of the board rooms, a narrowed eye roaming over them. It stopped on Barney Barton and narrowed further. "Where is Agent Barton?" he asked, his eye never leaving the elder Barton.

Natasha answered. "He stayed back to secure the location."

"Mhm." It was clear the Director was not fooled, but he didn't inquire further, nor did he take his eyes off Barney. "Mr. Barton," he said, and both Barney and Steve jumped at the name, "would you follow me?"

When the pair disappeared into the room, Steve turned to Natasha. "That's – that's Clint's _brother_?"

Natasha nodded once.

Steve struggled, but it was hard for him to comprehend a relationship such as the one he'd witnessed. Family was not supposed to do that.

"Clint doesn't talk about his brother," Natasha offered, voice soft. "Their relationship is complicated." When Steve looked like he was going to question her more, Natasha shook her head. "It's something you have to ask Clint about."

Late into the night, Barney Barton trudged toward the elevator, shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and his hair dishevelled. He punched the call button beside the elevator and nearly jumped into the air when Clint materialized beside him.

He clasped his hand over his heart dramatically. "Christ, Clint. You always were settin' out to give me a heart attack. Never understood how you did it."

A small smile formed on Clint's face. "I'm just not a big oaf, like you."

Barney chuckled and cuffed his brother. Then they fell into an uneasy silence as Barney waited on the elevator, both pointedly avoiding the others' eyes. When the elevator finally arrived, Barney moved to step on, but Clint grabbed his arm. Surprised, Barney looked back into the same eyes that gazed back at him in the mirror every morning, with the same seriousness they held now.

Clint hesitated, then let go of Barney's arm. His anger at his brother had subsided hours ago, as it had done years ago. In its place a quietness had settled, and Clint knew that while he could not ever forget Barney's actions, it might be possible to forgive. Because they had so much more history than just Barney's betrayal, and Clint could never forget that. "Take care of yourself," he said as he stepped back.

Barney entered the elevator and punched in his floor. "You too." Then the doors closed and Clint turned to head back down the hallway, almost running into Steve.

"Oh, hey Steve," Clint greeted, attempting to step around him, but Steve stepped sideways, blocking his path. Clint looked up at the super soldier and raised an eyebrow.

"Look, Clint, I know it's none of my business, but I want to make sure everything's okay."

"Uhh…yeah."

"It's – you know I was there at the meeting place. I know Barney's your brother. I also know that he…" Steve scrambled for words, but there wasn't a way to say 'left you to die' gently. "I won't pretend to understand, but he left you and he hasn't bothered to find you since. I – I wanted to know – how –how do you – just-"

Clint spoke, cutting off Steve's babbling. He kept his gaze focused on the floor, making it harder for Steve to read his expression. "Barney…has scars…that should have been mine," was all he said before walking briskly away.

It was only much later, when he recalled that conversation that Steve realized that it was all Clint needed to say.

**3.**

Tchaikovsky. The damn bastard was playing Tchaikovsky. Natasha tried and failed to keep from showing any outward signs that the music was effecting her, but she knew she failed as her right eye twitched sporadically. She shot another look left and right at her teammates as they advanced down the hallways, coiled and ready for any attack as they stormed the doctor's lair. Seeing their intense gazes renewed her focus and she gripped the barrel of her guns tighter, locked her jaw, and set off at a determined pace.

Natasha loved Tchaikovsky. It was a favourite pastime of hers; just listening to the beautiful strings and wind instruments as she wound down from a mission. But for her, Tchaikovsky's 4th symphony held mixed emotions. Most of the time, it brought fond memories of lazy days and the feeling of childhood security, as she pictured herself dancing through the living room, her record playing in the corner. But there were days when it brought nothing but pain, sadness, and anger over the ones who had taken that life from her. Today was one of those days.

The music whispered through her ears, and unbidden, memories rose to the surface, playing out in her mind's eye.

_A drum beat. Sauté de chat. _

_A loud staccato. Fouetté en tournant. _

She checked another glance at her Widow's Bites, to be sure that they were primed and ready. Of course they were.

_Allegro. Three jumps across the floor – watch the edge of the table. Turn. One more pas de chat. Her favourite. _

_Tempo decrease. Battement jeté. _

They approached a corner, and the team paused before Rogers checked the corridor, nodded, and directed them down.

_Triple time. Plié. Hold the pose as the record skips where she scratched it last Christmas. Now couru. _

_Increased tempo. Soubresaut – watch that foot!_

The music grew louder, and it was only a few more feet before they burst through the doctor's office, just as the music hit its climax. As Rogers rushed forward to secure the grinning, unresisting doctor, Natasha turned and fired three times into the small CD player that was attached to the PA system. The music ceased and her shoulders relaxed.

She turned to face her wide-eyed team. "Tchaikovsky," was all she said before leaving them to secure the doctor.

**4.**

Tony Stark had a problem.

Well, technically, he had several.

But if you set aside the alcoholism, eating problems, excessive working, sleeping problems, and panic disorder, then you were left with an obsession to know everything about everyone. And that included his friends in the shadowy organization known as SHIELD.

Normally, wanting to know all there is to know about a person or a situation isn't all that terrible. Tony Stark liked to be informed and hated being left in the dark. Many times, holding all of the cards was what kept him afloat in his business. However, he did not have enough sense to know where to draw the line between _knowing_ and _privacy_. Hence, his current situation.

He'd cornered Romanoff in the kitchen one morning as she was drinking her coffee. He poured himself a giant cup of coffee – black - and sat across from her at the table, observing her through bloodshot eyes. He'd stayed up all night going through SHIELD's firewalls, trying to find every scrap of information he could on his new house guest. When Romanoff had first fallen into his life, he'd researched her, sure. But he hadn't uncovered much, other than the basics of her profession and employment history with SHIELD. Nothing juicy. Now, after the whole scuffle in New York, he'd been determined to find out more on both agents. Both Barton's and Romanoff's files were highly redacted and so damn secure – it had taken Tony nearly three hours to open them – that he had not managed to find anything of interest. However, he had found something of interest in SHIELD's security camera archives, particularly the time when Natasha had interrogated Loki.

No sense beating around the bush, he figured, so he jumped right into it.

"How did Barton recruit you?" After all, he was not known for his subtlety.

Natasha finally looked up from her coffee mug, and Tony watched one eyebrow climb up and disappear into her hair. He had to admit (not out loud, of course, that was suicide) that it was incredibly sexy.

"What?" She asked, just as bluntly.

"You know, like you told Loki. You worked for some nasty Russians for a while, then suddenly – BAM – you waltz into SHIELD. Well, sorta, I mean, Barton _was_ supposed to kill you, even if that is not actually written anywhere. And believe me, I checked."

The eyebrow came down with the speed of a jackhammer, and green eyes narrowed at Tony. This, he thought, was her ultra-scary look. "Your security clearance does not reach that level."

"Oh, c'mon, Nat. We saved the world together, we ate Schawarma together, now we live together, for Christ's sake! Isn't this supposed to be a team?" Tony zeroed in on the one thing she might respond to; teamwork. Tony knew she wasn't exactly a team player, but Tony also knew that Fury had ordered the pair of spies to 'get used to it'. Natasha didn't like it, but she was at least willing to exhibit a small effort.

She pursed her lips and set her mug on the table. "Fine. Yes, Barton recruited me."

Tony resisted the urge to point out that she hadn't exactly answered his question. "Really? How? You were working for the other side. The man was there to kill you."

Natasha shrugged. "He offered. I accepted."

Tony really hated these half-answers. He tried to keep his voice level, and the sarcasm at bay. It wasn't working very well. "Really. Just like that."

"Yes."

"You just followed him."

"Yes."

"Screw the Russians, let's join SHIELD."

"Better dental."

Tony growled and slumped back in his chair. He had to take his eyes off the stone-faced Russian in front of him before he completely lost it. "C'mon, tell me the truth. What really happened?"

One side of Natasha's mouth curled up in a smile as she collected her mug. "He said 'please'," she tossed back as she left the room.

**5.**

Steve walked down the corridors of SHIELD with a purposeful stride. Several agents nodded and greeted him as he walked past, and Steve nodded back. Just a few minutes earlier, Steve had been in Director Fury's office, called in to discuss the parameters of his next mission.

"It's an old army base, but AIM has been there for the past eight months," Fury informed him as the captain flipped through the file. "This would normally be low priority but there's a lot of energy readings coming from that camp. Take Romanoff and Barton and find out what's going on down there."

Steve looked up, startled. "Barton? He's –"

"He passed his psych eval and you need a sniper. He's been sitting on the bench for too long; I don't want him getting rusty or comfortable."

Steve nodded firmly and left the office. He wasn't sure just where the two assassins were, but he figured with the way several agents were scurrying from the training room that he would start there.

The young agent at a desk around the corner from the training rooms stopped him. His face was pinched and he looked worried. "Sir, I don't think you want to go in there," he said.

Steve frowned and stopped. "I'm looking for Agents Barton and Romanoff."

"They're in there," he said. His eyes shifted to watch another young looking agent scurrying down the hall.

"Is there something wrong, Agent…Travers?" Rogers asked.

"You've heard what they say about them," the young agent behind the desk said, in a low voice, his eyes wide.

Steve shook his head, a frown creasing his features. "Ah…no?"

The rookie cast a quick glance around before leaning forwards. "Hawkeye brought her in…without firing a single shot." His eyebrows rose and disappeared into his hair. "The most dangerous and wanted criminal in several continents…I heard he's good with the ladies, but this?"

Steve's frown remained on his face as he left the agent and walked into the lion's den, so to speak. He wasn't sure what he was going to find, but he did not expect to see Agent Romanoff throwing knives at Agent Barton.

The gym was empty save for the three of them, and Steve remained near the doors, watching as Barton flipped over backwards, dodging the knife that lodged itself in the wall behind him. When Romanoff ran out of knives, she threw herself at him, a flurry kicks and punches, moving with the fluid grace of a cat. Barton was graceful too, and while he was not as fast as Romanoff, he was stronger. Strength, however, was not in his favour, as Romanoff leaped forwards, spun under his jab and used her upper body strength to throw him over his shoulder.

Barton hit the floor with a loud thump and slid several feet towards the doors. Romanoff followed and had her foot on his chest when they both noticed Steve.

Barton looked over and smiled at Steve. "Oh, hey Cap."

Natasha planted a hand on her hip and regarded him, not relinquishing her hold on Barton. "Mission?" she asked.

He just nodded.

Natasha turned back to Clint and pressed her foot harder than necessary into his chest before snarling, "Не трогайте мою пирог" and turning towards the change rooms.

Clint looked entirely too smug for a man who'd been used to wipe the floor with.

**+1.**

The past few months had been rough for all of the Avengers. With Clint gone on another deep cover operation, the Avengers were one man short and found that they definitely had to work harder to fill Hawkeye's spot on the team. SHIELD occasionally sent out a sniper to help them if they thought it necessary, but no one quite matched the bow-wielding assassin. The SHIELD agents were qualified enough and Steve would never complain, but he couldn't help but miss Hawkeye's dry sense of humour over the comm. lines. Especially now that Barton had begun to heal since the New York attack and the team had been able to glimpse his true colours. He was not the same man that had flown Steve to Stark Tower, and he hoped to never encounter that man again.

As it was, the person who suffered the most was Romanoff – and that usually meant the rest of them suffered as well.

Natasha wasn't usually found about the tower at any given time, as she wasn't an overly sociable person. With Clint away, she was a rarity. Steve, being the polite gentleman and team leader that he was, always tried to make small talk or to invite her to join him for coffee. She would smile politely and thank him, but always turned him down.

The Black Widow was a woman of many faces and was probably the best liar out there (he heard Fury had even designed a lie detector to beat her) but Steve knew her partner's absence bothered her. Natasha might say that she had no tells, but Steve noticed that her smile never reached her eyes. Steve didn't believe that she was slipping; only that she felt comfortable enough around them to let her mask slip just a little.

A few aliens had arrived in Detroit, mostly just to create a ruckus. There were more damaged roads and signs than people, but Fury wanted the Avengers to deal with it because it was good for their image.

Natasha was handling a few of the remaining aliens on her own when suddenly one of her attackers was struck down by an arrow. She whirled around, her guns aimed at her partner and a furious gleam in her eyes.

Barton stood several feet away, looking a little dirty and tired, but he grinned cheekily at her. "Miss me?" He asked.

She snorted and put her guns back in their holsters. "Not on your life."

But in that moment Steve could see what a lie that was. Clint grinned at her and Natasha smiled back – a smile that actually reached her eyes. And Steve, watching them smile at each other over an alien carcass, didn't understand their relationship (and probably never would) but he figured he didn't have to.

Natasha had told him once, after New York, that she and Clint were not good people. Steve didn't like to believe that, even when Natasha firmly insisted that it was true. Steve had seen that photo of the little redheaded girl in Clint's wallet, and he had seen the way Natasha fiercely protected the team (while firmly denying that she cared at all). He had long since given up trying to decipher the mystery that was Hawkeye and the Black Widow; all he knew was that when they were together there was a little less darkness to them. Perhaps that was all that mattered.

**A/N:** Не трогайте мою пирог - Don't touch my pie. (Google Translate)


End file.
